


black (don't care what you say)

by t0bemadeofglass



Series: Opia!Verse [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Hand jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:50:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a look Hux had becoming intimately familiar with seeing, one that tended to mean he’d better drop everything that he was in the middle of doing if he didn’t want to see the entire break room trashed in a fit of Ben’s rage.</p><p>--</p><p>One-Shot from the Opia!verse, that wouldn't quite fit within the narrative but needed to be written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	black (don't care what you say)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So. This . . . doesn't have a place in the fic unfortunately, but it felt like too perfect an opportunity to write something for them to kind of give them a backstory? So, yeah. Here it is! Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Beta read by the incredible Spacepint

There was a look Hux had becoming intimately familiar with seeing, one that tended to mean he’d better drop everything that he was in the middle of doing if he didn’t want to see the entire break room trashed in a fit of Ben’s rage. The man’s anger issues had issues, though most of them tended to be sated with through their job. They might as well have called it a free therapy, provided courtesy of the idiots that the SWAT team were called in to deal with. It was easy to write off broken walls, or the broken apart, splintered furniture, when they were busting a drug deal up. 

It wasn’t always enough, though. When the rage simmered just beneath Ben’s skin until he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d shoot Hux  _ that  _ look before he stomped out the door. Today was one of those days, but Hux hadn’t needed to catch Ben’s hint to know that. The raid that they’d conducted had been cut short due to a lawyer turning up, and Ben’s shoulders had carried the tension the whole drive back to the station. Hux had a minute, maybe two if he was lucky, to clean up after himself and make his excuses, before walking (not any faster than necessary, of course) towards the locker rooms. 

No sooner had he passed the door and closed it behind him, than his back was reaquainted with the concrete wall, and Ben growled in his ear. Their lips never touched, not once, and Hux was grateful for it. He wasn’t  _ like that _ . Wasn’t interested in them sitting down, talking about their feelings and their difficulties with this job, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to fuck him either. This was a mutually beneficial release, a business transaction that simply involved Hux wrapping his hand around Ben’s dick (he would  _ not  _ remark on the size, or how hot it felt in his palm). Ben bared his teeth, and Hux shuddered at the press of them against the soft of his neck, at the hot breath that fanned over his collarbone. 

“Fuck, you’re really pissed off today,” Hux muttered. Ben’s precome already dribbled down against his hand, coating his fingers and Ben’s length, putting an end to the chaffing that must not have bothered Ben too much. At least he’d never mentioned it in the five or so years they’d been doing this. 

Ben growled a response, relying on sounds more than words, and wasn’t that how it always was? Hux had always seen him as more beast than man, especially out in the field, but like this? With his cock pressed to Hux’s palm and his eyes screwed up tight as he fucked the Sniper’s hand? With his teeth inches from digging into Hux’s carotid and his whole frame trembling with a need for release? Hux swirled his thumb over the head of Ben’s cock and watched his shaking worsen. He drove a hand back to beat against the wall, not caring that the concrete was as unforgiving as ever, before his free hand dove straight for the buckle of Hux’s belt. His long fingers fumbled with it, and the zipper after. Hux tightened his own grip as Ben tugged the ginger’s already half-hard dick out of his (by now too tight) pants. 

“Calm down,” Hux could hardly growl, as Ben’s grip turned just as constricting. Now  _ Hux  _ minded the chafing, and he glowered up at Ben when the dark haired man turned to him. 

“Fuck off,” he spat. 

_ Fine _ . Hux released his grip on Ben’s dick and had managed to make it a single step to the side, prepared to just pull his pants back up and walk out  _ raging hard on and all _ before Ben grabbed him by the throat and threw him right back. 

Hux’s eyes cut into Ben’s dark, blown out ones, and gritted his teeth to watch Ben bring his free hand to his mouth and drag his tongue across his skin. Never breaking eye contact, Ben pressed his cock against Hux’s and wrapped his long fingers around them both, pumping up and against his coworker. The friction and heat of Ben’s palm, along with the slick slip of his saliva-coated skin, brought Hux’s breath to stutter, nostrils flaring as he felt his back straighten. 

Ben’s teeth were bared, and when Hux made to look away, look up, to the left, right (anything but down, at what was happening), Ben’s hand moved to cup the back of his head. “Look at me,” he growled. “Is this what you wanted? Might want to go find yourself a wet twat if you’re looking for something more comfortable.” 

“You’re the one who seeks me out, Solo,” Hux hissed, his jaw clenched as Ben’s hips jerked forward, and the frisson of pain and pleasure made Hux’s brain short out. 

“And you come running like a bitch in heat every--fucking--time.” Ben punctuated the last three words by rubbing his thumb over the head of Hux’s dick, and it’s all the redhead can do to not moan too loudly. He wasn’t about to give Ben that satisfaction, no matter if his knees felt as though they were about to collapse underneath him. He dug his nails into Ben’s wrist instead, clutching it as though the world would collapse if he let go. He angled the man’s hand just so, his fingers brushing up against the sensitive head of Hux’s cock with every second thrust. Hux was going to  _ come  _ in a matter of seconds if he kept this up. Ben knew, the smirk dragging his lips upward broadcasting that by now, he’d come to know Hux’s tell-tale signs like his own, and the pressure increased just enough. 

Hux didn’t moan when the orgasm hit him just south of his heart, lungs constricting and ribs feeling as though they were being pulled inward. Instead he let out a stuttered huff of air, and tipped his head back until it hit the wall, Ben close behind as the come dribbling between their cocks made the push and pull all the easier. When Hux felt the thick ropes of come covering his own cock, and the jagged, uneven rhythm of Ben’s dick against his own, he knew he could pull away. 

They didn’t meet one another’s eyes as they cleaned up, and Ben made sure to leave just before Hux did. His shoulders didn’t hunch as they had before, and his gaze had grown less heated in the wake of his orgasm. 

No one found out, and no one said a thing if they had any suspicions, seamlessly including them back into whatever conversations they’d missed, clueing them in to whatever news they’d been absent for in the ten minutes it took for them to get one another off. 

It was a business transaction, a simple trade between the two men. Nothing more, never anything more. 

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Sure, Hux. Sure.


End file.
